The Reckoning
by Alone Dreaming
Summary: Fillintheblank. Jack sits with Stephen on the way back to Galapagos and the two have a meaningful talk. Will Jack get his chance to at least say that he's sorry? Movieverse. Sister fic to 'Four Things in Common'


**_The Reckoning _**

**By Alone Dreaming**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from _Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World_. If I did, this would not be posted under fanfiction.**

**Author's Note: Another movie based story though it is related to my first story _Four Things in Common. _It can be read alone however. This is a fill-in-the-blank piece for what happened while the ship was heading back towards Galapagos. I would like to give a major thanks to those who reviewed my last fic: Arwen Lune, Bonden's Lilly, Misty Satin Dream, and Thestral Dea. A very special thanks goes to my beta Kayla who really saved my skin and of course, gave me the courage to post this. She also gave me the title for the story. Read and enjoy. Remember, this is a non-slash, movie based, one shot fic. **

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If there is but one thing that a man gets used to when living upon a ship, it is the sound of water. Water dripping, sloshing, smacking, moving; it doesn't really matter what the exact motion of the water is; a man eventually becomes accustomed to it. Having spent so much time upon ships in my life, I would have thought that the sound of dripping water would never bother me. The sound was no different than the falling of rain upon a great ocean. God only knew how many times I had heard it in my life.

However, when I lifted the handkerchief from the water the dripping of the water back into the bowl caused a shudder to run through me. I was slightly surprised by it overall, and shook my head. 'I am tired,' I thought, turning back to my task. 'I have not rested in ages now. It's not surprising that I'm a bit off.' In truth, I was rather weary, though not as weary as I tried to convince myself. I knew, deep down, that the real reason I shuddered was because of the overwhelming amount of emotions rampaging through me; I was overdone. Too much had happened in such a short amount of time.

I gently pressed the handkerchief against Stephen's forehead and peered into his face, trying to search out some improvement. There was none. My good friend was still as pale as one dead, his face wet with sweat from the raging fever he had acquired. His eyes were moving beneath his lids, flickering back and forth as he dreamed of events old and new. Every now and again a sound would escape him; these sounds only made my heart clench, most of them made in fear and pain. No, Stephen was not looking a bit better. If anything, he was looking worse.

'I'm doing no good with this,' I growled internally, frustrated. The wet cloth in my hand only seemed to be dripping more water onto Stephen's face, not lowering his fever. It was bring him no comfort in his unconscious state. 'What is the point? Dabbing his face with water is not going to help.' I knew if Stephen had been awake, he would have told me that tepid water was good for bringing down fevers when nothing else worked. That would not have caused me to believe my efforts were worth anything; it would have caused me to keep doing it though.

Throwing the handkerchief back in the water bowl, I gave into my irritation. I wanted to do something to fix this situation. Sitting here had reminded me that patience was not one of my best virtues. Simply waiting for Stephen to miraculously heal or get worse or possibly even die was not something I wanted to do. I wanted to wave my hand over his injury and heal it then go back to my normal duties. 'This is why I didn't come here before,' I thought, fidgeting on my stool. 'I simply cannot stand this.'

It didn't seem right that I could not sit with my friend. Whenever I managed to injure myself or receive and injury, Stephen would be there tending me. The few times I had fallen ill, he had personally made sure that I was cared for, staying up all night to bathe my feverish body and force medicines into me. It was wrong that I did not have the strength to sit and do the same for him. My mind tried to justify why I could not wipe the sweat from his forehead and give him tinctures like he did for me, but there was nothing that I could think of to make my inability reasonable.

'Well, Jack, seems as though you really don't care too much for him,' a tiny voice inside my head taunted. 'At least, not as much as he cares for you.'

"That's not true," I whispered gruffly. "I do care just as much about him." The words seemed empty though, especially said out loud. My mind drifted to Tom's words, recalling his three points of commonness about Stephen and I. With pain, I remembered his fourth point that he said he was wrong about. I did love Stephen dearly and I knew without a doubt that he loved me. Then why was it that my heart was crying over Tom's last statement. He said that we did not have love for each other. He had to be wrong, didn't he?

'If he's wrong,' the voice continued, 'then why is it that you cannot bear to care for Stephen? If he is so dear to you, why can't you sit with him and whisper comforts? Why is it that you cannot bathe his brow as he has done for you? Why did it take you so long to turn back to land?'

My own thoughts only caused me to wander farther into myself. I nearly missed the low moan and the rustling noise of the hammock I sat my. Looking up, I found Stephen's eyes open halfway and focused on the ceiling. They were glassy with illness but I was surprised to find that there was comprehension in them as well. Very slowly they moved and focused upon my face. There was a brief moment where I was sure he was not going to recognize me, but I was soon proved wrong as a flicker of recognition crossed his face.

I was even more surprised when his colorless lips moved and he murmured faintly. "Jack...."

It was very rare for me to be struck dumb. When I was, I had to admit Stephen was usually the cause in one way or another. It was either a bit of cynical humor or a stray observation that would cause me to sit (or stand) and wonder instead of respond. This time it took me a good minute to stutter out a simple phrase. "Yes, Stephen.... here..." It made me sound like a fool.

Stephen's attention was already off of me however and his eyes wandered around the cabin. His pale lips pursed slightly and his eyes drifted shut again. For a moment, I believed him to be asleep once more but soon he was moving again, proving me wrong. His hand moved slowly down his left side, growing dangerously close to the wound. Without a second thought, I reached out and grasped it. The last thing I needed was for him to be in more pain.

"Don't touch it," I said, as though speaking to a child. "It will only hurt you worse."

Stephen looked at me, an eyebrow raised. For the first time I realized he was quite a bit more lucid than I had thought. A slightly biting comment came from him, "Are you a doctor as well as the ship's captain, sir?"

I shook my head dumbly, and did not meet his eyes. Instead I stared at the hand I was holding. Every second I spent in here made me feel more unintelligent and terribly ashamed. Stephen weakly tugged his hand away and he tugged back the covers, revealing the injury. Higgins had said it would be best to leave it open but clearly he had been wrong. It was disgusting to look upon, filling the air with a rather unpleasant odor. I turned away as inconspicuously as I could.

I saw Stephen wince from the corner of my eye. He let out a low sigh and murmured, "I'm assuming that Higgins told you that it was best to leave the wound open so it could breath."

I managed a nod but my stomach churned. I had seen men die of lesser infections even under Stephen's caring hands. The frightening realization that Stephen would most likely die because of this had hit me full force. If it had been any other man suffering such, I probably would have been able to provide comfort for that person. If I had not been half the cause of it, I might have even been able to look upon the wound with Stephen. I could do neither.

"Where is that blasted man?" the doctor demanded. The question was clear and strong but the voice that issued it held a very serious weakness.

"He's looking over books," I said to the wall of the cabin. "Or, at least, that is what I've been told. I am sure he is drinking his fair share of grog as well."

"I see," Stephen said his tone a bit short. The rustling behind me indicated that he was moving. I forced myself to turn around, fearing that he would fall out of the hammock and bring more harm on himself. 'That would be another nice little black mark to add to the rest, Aubrey,' my mind taunted. 'Let your own fears keep you from helping him. Before it was your pride and now you are scared.' I had no need to argue with it. It was right.

"Don't move too much," I said, holding one edge of the hammock. "You may fall out and God knows you don't need more injuries." I stared at the cloth and at my hand, trying to focus on something else other than my friend.

This was what I had feared the most when I had come down to sit with Stephen. I had feared that he would wake up and I would be forced to speak with him. I had seen it all happening in my mind. He would wake up and he would not forgive me. He would wake up, forgive me and then die before I could even apologize. There were so many scenarios that I had gone over and though what actually happened did not fit any one of them particularly, it was just as painful.

"I suppose God knows that, but whether he decides to prevent more injuries is his choice alone," Stephen replied, shifting a bit more. "Jack, would you do me a favor and check my pulse. If Higgins is going to be useless, I might as well cover his job for him."

That was just like Stephen. If someone else was not doing their job with the sick and injured, he would do it instead. Of course, it was not too terribly often that he would be checking up on himself for someone. However, it made a small smile cross my lips and I gently took his wrist.

"Well?" he asked, and I noted how tired he suddenly seemed. He was worn out already by being up for only a few minutes. How long would it be before waking up at all exhausted him? How long would it be before breathing was too much work? I pushed those thoughts out of my mind.

"It's-" It was faint and fast beneath my fingers. I didn't want to say that though. Why depress Stephen? For a moment, I forgot that in this situation he was not only the patient but the physician as well.

"Tell me," he said firmly. "Or I'll attempt to take it myself, and there are many things that could lead to."

"Weak," I answered quickly, "and fast." I didn't want him moving anymore. He needed to stay still and rest. It did not take a surgeon or a surgeon's mate to see that. The less he tried to do things, the better it was for him. The better it was for him, the easier my heart was.

"Ah, well, nothing more than expected," he said, his eyes closing again for a moment. He was clearly struggling to stay awake. One eye cracked open slightly. "Will you do me another favor or two, Jack? I want to make sure that I've had a semi-good check up."

He made me take his temperature among many other things. I did not understand the point of some of them but they seemed to satisfy him more or less. The whole time, he spoke nothing of our past disagreements. That was one of the few things I never expected. It would be a perfect time for him to shoot at me and yet he did not. I vaguely knew it was not a part of his personality to do so but I still had not put it past him. The entire situation had skewed things in my mind, not allowing me to look at everything clearly.

"Thank you," he said after we finally finished our last task. "I most certainly could not have done any of that alone."

"No need for thanks," I said, startled. "It was my pleasure." Had he thought that I wouldn't help him? If he did, I had hurt him worse than I could have ever imagined. The ache in my heart grew slightly.

He was paler now, I noted, as he leaned back again. The sweat on his brow was running down his face. Clearly it had sapped his strength to stay awake this long and to do so much. Even though I had done the majority of the things, he had helped me in every way he could. It cost him the bit of energy he had gained in his restless sleep though. I wanted to let him rest again but something would not let me do that. I had to speak to him now. I had been given the chance, and I had to take it. Too many things could happen before I would have the chance to speak to him.

I cleared my throat slightly, realizing that a very uncomfortable silence had fallen between us. He was still awake, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Slowly, I spoke, "Stephen, may we speak?"

Usually such a question would gain a witty and maybe sarcastic response. However, Stephen was too tired for that apparently. "I am very weary, Jack."

"I know, I know, but please," I begged. "Please, we need to speak."

He let out a sigh, expressing every emotion that was swirling within him. His glazed eyes turned to me and he started to speak. It all came out of him rather slowly though it seemed to take no time at all.

"I don't blame you, Jack," he whispered. "I don't look at you and say 'It's his fault I was shot.' If I was to blame anyone, I would blame myself for getting in the way of the gunfire. I would blame the albatross for following us and catching my interest. I would blame Howard for firing the gun and missing. I could even blame God for not stopping it. But by no means, would I ever be able to blame you or would I blame you.

"I've been angry at you," he admitted. "In fact, I've been downright furious at you for quite some time now. I've felt betrayed, hurt and angry. I was upset that you broke the promise you made to me about Galapagos. I viewed a promise as binding and I still do. I never had expected you to simply say no to me and 'my damned hobbies." He did not see my wince.

"But, after a while, the fury began to go away. You did have orders, even if you surpassed them, and you had your chance to catch the ship. Then I just hurt and wished that I hadn't gotten my hopes so high. I won't lie to you about, I hurt very badly. I never expected it of you. However, I did begin to realize that my hobbies were just hobbies. Though I wanted to learn more, do what I loved most, I knew that your decision was for the good of the masses over all.

"I do admit I felt slightly self righteous when we hit that spell of bad luck. I thought 'Hah, this is God punishing him for going back on his word.' Of course, after a bit, when we were running out of water I felt terribly foolish about it. Besides, since when does God punish a man who breaks a promise with another man? He does it very rarely at best. He has more important things to worry about than a little squabble." A slight chuckle escaped him and then a soft gasp of pain. "I was so glad when the wind started back up."

"My heart truly did lighten a bit with it. I felt happier and a bit better. In fact, I had planned to come speak with you at some point." I think he saw me look a bit apprehensive. A slight smile crossed his lips. "Civilly, Jack, about the fighting we had been doing. I wanted to apologize for being as stubborn as I was. I should have tried to see it from your point of view sooner but alas, you are not the only one who has a great deal of pr-"

His words stopped with a soft noise of pain, and his hands tightened into fists on the blankets that covered him. I wasn't sure at all what to do at first, to shocked by it to move. My senses came back after a moment and I stood up abruptly.

"Should I find Higgins?" I asked, trying to keep the panic away from my voice.

"No," he moaned through gritted teeth. "Stay......please.... the p-pain will fade in b-but a moment." He was in so much pain. I had never seen him like this before. A few tears trickled from his tightly shut eyes, and he gasped for air every now and again. Helpless, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I grabbed one of his hands and held it. I never knew that he had such strength and I never would have considered he would keep it when he was so weak. Later on though, I could feel bruises that were there but did not show.

The pain passed after what seemed to be an eternity. The tension left Stephen's form and his hand relaxed in mine. His eyes opened slightly and he let out a slight sigh. He did not start speaking again but his eyes moved over to the glass of water sitting on his bedside table. A silent question was asked and I quickly picked it up. Lifting his head up, I pressed the cup to his lips and allowed him to drink his fill.

"Thank you," he said his voice very weak.

"Always," I replied, wondering if he planned to continue what he was saying or not. Frankly, I was rather taken aback by some of what he had been saying but I wanted him to finish. He did start speaking again but his voice was not as strong. In fact, it almost seemed to be failing.

"You aren't the only one who has pride," he managed, his eyes shut. "It took a long time for me to want to understand why you chose to chase that ghost ship. When I did, I felt I owed you apology but I didn't seem to have time to get it. The morning that the- the accident happened, I had been planning to speak to you but fate was against that. I was distracted by the bird and then it happened and since then I've.... Well, I haven't been awake very much.

"I'm sorry, Jack," he whispered. "We were both hard headed, but you needed my support and I did not give it. When we hit the bad luck I could only give you my irritated opinion instead of my friendship and love. For that, I'm not sure I'm still too terribly deserving of your friendship. When this whole blasted little wooden world was going to fall apart, the world that you love, I was only another rebel on the ship not your best friend. Please forgive me for that."

He could not see my face. He did not see how it crumbled. He did not realize that my heart nearly broke with his words. He did not understand that by apologizing to me, that he was tearing me apart. He was showing me how heartless I really was. A sob lodged itself in my throat, and I rested my forehead against his shoulder.

"Oh God," I whispered. "If I had the right to forgive you, I would but I deserved every second you were upset with me. Your words were right. I give you my forgiveness but you've not done a thing wrong." I had to say more; I had to say those three words. I had to get them out.

Stephen relaxed all of the sudden, causing me to sit up quickly. My fingers flew to his wrist and I was quickly relieved by a pulse fluttering there. He had fallen back into sleep. It was more than understandable, considering how long he had fought it off. Still, though, fate had not given me the chance to apologize. I was once again left in my grief which had managed to double.

"Stephen," I whispered to his sleeping form. "You have to live through this. You cannot give up on me. You were able to say what you had to but I still have to speak. I couldn't bear it if you died now. I couldn't bear it if I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. Even though you don't blame me, I blame me. I...." I took his hand and pressed it to my forehead. "I am so sorry."

He couldn't hear me. I had just managed to say the words and yet he was oblivious to them. I squeezed his hand gently. "Don't worry, Stephen, I'll make it up to you. We'll be in Galapagos soon."

There were footsteps on the stairs as Padeen entered the room. He saluted when he saw me sitting there and waited quietly for a moment. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, uncertain if he should stay or let me be alone with Stephen. Slowly he made a few awkward motions that I could barely decipher. Stephen was always better at understanding what Padeen was trying to say and I currently was so worked up that I couldn't even begin to understand.

"Does someone want me?" I asked tiredly, running a hand over my eyes.

Padeen nodded and tried to give me a smile. He screwed his face up and scowled and made a motion that was akin to that of stirring a pot.

"Ah, Killick.... Dinner time I suppose." I didn't feel like eating. I didn't want to leave Stephen here alone. I was afraid that he might die while I was gone and I would never be able to speak with him again. Slowly, I stood up and smiled weakly at Padeen. 'Stephen will hang on for me,' I assured myself. 'There is no question Stephen will live.'

"Take good care of him for me," I said to Padeen as I went up the stairs. Padeen smiled again and took up my seat next to Stephen. "He means quite a bit to me."

Padeen said nothing with his lips or voice for he could not but the look in his eyes spoke clearly enough for him. It was almost as though I could hear him.

'I know, sir,' his eyes said. 'And so does he.'

**-**

**The End**

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**I hope the fic was enjoyable. Once again, a large thanks to Kayla who informed me of Padeen being a mute. With my movie knowledge I was quite unaware that Padeen couldn't speak. Thank you, Kayla, and thank you to everyone who has read. Review if you have the time. Reviews are appreciated. **


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